Hanging On
by OneWithTheOcean
Summary: Catherine is exhausted and scared. She sees that her life is spiraling out of control and she is powerless to stop it. But just when she begins to think that she has the strength to hang on, things begin to take a scary turn, and she is left to decide whether or not she is a fighter or if she will become just another victim of statistics. Rating may change.
1. Into Oblivion

**Hi everyone! I wrote this on a whim and this was originally intended to be a one shot. But, midway through writing this piece. I made the decision to develop this into something more. So without further delay here we go:**

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I often dream that I am standing on a cliff. Below the ocean always stirs restlessly whipped up by the hurricane force winds that in turn cut at my exposed skin sending small drops of blood down to the hungry sea below. I wonder what would happen if I gave myself over to the sea. If I just dove into the dark oblivion and relinquished all my pain. I always awaken before I can make my choice though.

Today I am not dreaming.

I stand on a cliff somewhere in Northern California. The ancient redwoods for which this coast is famed stand ready to bear witness to my dive into freedom. The ocean below churns hungrily, ready to receive me. I inhale the alluring salty scent that it gives off, coaxing me closer and closer to the cliff's edge. I stop when my toes just peek over the edge and I take another deep inhale. In the bitter cold night air, warmth somehow finds its way to my cheek. I realize, when I tough them that the warmth is supplied by tears. My heart is pounding in my ears and my chest is tight, not with fear but with excitement. I am ready to embrace my oblivion.

I never intended to come this far. I only wanted to escape New York for awhile, but the only other available domestic flights were to Chicago and Tulsa. Neither of those places sounded remotely appealing. Instead I chose San Francisco. The city Is a lot like me. On the outside it looks like your average city but a short time spent examining it, would reveal that it is much more strange and complex and sometimes much more dangerous.

But when I arrived in San Francisco with nothing more than a purse, my plans to stay and ease my suffering in the city had changed to a much more permanent solution to my pain. Upon my arrival I rented a car and I drove north into the wilderness. I drove for hours along the 101 until I came upon this spot just outside of a college town. I believe the last sign that I had seen read Trinidad. It doesn't really matter though. This is where it all ends for me.

Esme creeps into my mind. Sweet Esme with the fire that burns so passionately. I hope that she isn't like me. I hope that she can escape this pain and live a life without excess suffering. A little is necessary to effectively teach lessons about life. But she doesn't deserve the kind of misery that only pills can control. No one deserves it, no matter how dark they are on the inside.

I slide my hand into my pocket and my fingers wrap themselves around the translucent, orange pill bottle; one of the few that contain the key to my self control and my oppression. Without even looking at it I chuck it over the cliff and then without any further thoughts, I follow it down throwing my arms out as I do. For a moment I feel like I'm flying and then all too quickly the knowledge of what I have just done takes hold and suddenly I realize that I don't want to die. If I die I will be just like my mother disregarding all of her loved ones like they were nothing. I will have quit and abandoned everyone I love just like my father. Two people I have always feared that I would become. But before I could even try to fight I hit the water and there is nothing but oblivion.

**I know it's short, but this was originally all I was going to write. The next chapters will be longer I swear. I hope you all stay with me. **


	2. Waking Up

**_I just had to get chapter 2 out. Chapter 3 will follow shortly. The ideas are flowing like mad! Which is surprising since I just had brain surgery a month ago. But my focus has been better since the surgery which is great. For those of you who are curious, I have hydrocephalus. My shunt broke months...possibly years ago...we aren't sure because I haven't had a CT for years and I've been having chronic headaches and focus issues for years. It was only when my symptoms become more severe that they finally listened to me. So I have a new shunt and I haven't been having headaches daily like I used to. Life is great. Anyway without further delay here we go!  
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_I don't want to die. _The thought lights up in my head as I begin to swim to the surface of consciousness. My heart is pounding in my ears again and my chest tightens with panic. I feel like I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't scream. The memories of what I had done come swarming back to me like bees on the attack. The sting is felt on every part of my body causing an intense burn to flow through me. Am I dead? Is this hell? Before I could stop it, the scream that had been trapped in my throat is unleashed.

"Jesus!" A pair of hands closes in on my arms holding me down with what feels like a ton of weight. "Stop squirming, Catherine! You'll hurt yourself! Shit!"

The hands belong to Ian Bickman. I know his touch almost as well as I know his voice. But aren't I dead? I try to speak but I can't. The pain is too much. All I want to do is run away from the bees….run into the ocean to shake them off. I already tried that though and it obviously failed. But none of what was going on now made any since.

"Josh, don't just stand there! Go get Dr. Charles. Hurry up!" Bickman barks a little too loudly in my ear. I cringe as the pain moves sharply into my head.

The pain is so powerful that it sharpens my hearing. I hear footsteps running down the hall. Josh's footsteps and then I hear frantic shouting. I still can't see anything. I try to open my eyes but my eyelids feel heavy like there are lead weights strapped to them.

"For God's sake, Black, calm down!"

It's then that I realize I'm still struggling to fight off the bees and Bickman is struggling to keep me still. I obey but that doesn't mean that the pain or the panic has abated in the slightest. Somewhere in the darkness a heart monitor mirrors the pounding of my heart in my ears.

"Catherine?" A calm but stern sounding woman asks. "I'm going to give you a sedative. You're going to feel a lot better when you wake up again. I promise." Through the pain I barely register the sting of the needle as it enters my arm, but I feel the burn of the drug as it climbs steadily towards my heart, where it will be quickly dispersed to my brain.

Soon the bees are gone. The burn is gone, and my senses, sharpened by the pain, begin to dull. Within moments, I sink back into the deep waters of unconsciousness without fear.

When I wake up again, I am only greeted by a dull ache. I welcome that over the pain that I had experienced before this. I can also open my eyes now. The room is your standard hospital room; white walls, polished green linoleum and machinery everywhere. I stare up at the IV bag above my head and follow the line down to my right hand.

"Welcome back. Although I'm pretty sure that's not what you were hoping to hear right now."

Josh. He sounds angry and he has every right to be. But I don't try to apologize. How can I apologize for trying to commit suicide? What could I possibly say to explain why I thought it was a good idea to hurt everyone I love? So I won't. Instead I respond with questions. "Where am I? How did I get here?"

I can't find Joshua, instead he comes to me. And when he enters my field of vision I am shocked by what I see there. He looks exhausted and like has been aged a bad ten years. I did that to him. Guilt squeezes my soul and I open my mouth to apologize as tears obscure my vision. But I can't because I know that I shouldn't. Apologizing for this would be an insult. All I can do now is move forward with my life. If I'm going to have any hope of making this up to him, this is how I have to do it.

"You're in a hospital in San Francisco. You've been here for about a week. You were transferred here from Eureka after they stabilized you. You weren't the only idiot out on the cliffs that night. The only difference is no one else was there to throw everything they have away. " He says evenly. But something about his tone tells me he's fighting back a storm. I recognize that look in his eyes. He wants to unleash everything on me. He should. He should rip me to pieces verbally. I wouldn't hold it against him.

"Yell at me please." I say and this time I can't hold back the tears. They fall in streams down my cheek and I turn away in an effort to hide them but, my brother refuses to let me hide. We had always made a point not to hide our emotions from each other. This is how we had survived through life and I had broken that.

"What good is yelling at you going to do?" He spits out. "That's not going to stop you from doing it again."His tone more than his words cause my heart rate to sky rocket again as the panic sets in. I suddenly know what's in my near future and I can't let it happen.

"I don't need a mental hospital!" I shout as loudly as my sore body will allow. I feel like a child throwing a tantrum but I don't care. I'll do what it will take but I can't go through this. I don't need it. "This will never happen again. I swear. Joshua please!"

He snorts and runs his hand through his hair in agitation. "Oh yeah? What makes you so sure? You do this kind of shit all the time! You've just never done anything on this scale. You're hurting us, when all we want to do is see you happy!" His words are starting to become shaky and I stare up at him and at the tears pooling in his eyes. "Do you have any idea how much pain you have caused us? Especially Esme? She's so torn up that she barely eats. And then you have the nerve to tell me that you won't get the help that you need?"

Esme. My heart sinks and more tears fall. What have I done?

"Please, Catherine it's for your own good. It's a nice facility in Seattle. Ian made a few calls and set the whole thing up. You'll receive the best care in the country." Josh says this with a little more calm.

I shut my eyes to him and shake my head. Ian set this up? Ian as in Dr. Ian Bickman? I vaguely remember him being there when I woke up the first time. But I could have just as easily conjured him up in my mind. I don't question any of it however. Right now it's not important. Right now I need to convince my very stubborn brother that hospitalization isn't the right path for me. At least it isn't for the recovery that I need.

"When I jumped. I regretted it, instantly." My voice sounds hoarse and pathetically weak but I don't dwell on it. "I want to live. I do. Please let me do it on m own terms. I promise that there won't be a repeat offense. I've had my preview of death and I know that it's not for me. Well at least not until the time when I'm old and asleep in my bed." I attempt a small smile which he doesn't return. "Please let me try."

I know what he's going to say as he opens his mouth to respond. I raise my hand to stop him.

"One more time."

He stares at me for a long time, mulling it over before he finally nods. "I'm not the one you're going to have to convince." He finally says before sitting back into his chair.

My mind instantly goes to Bickman. "So he knows?"

"Everything." He confirms tiredly. "He was present when I discussed your bi-polar disorder with the doctors."

Strangely enough I'm not surprised by this new information and even more strange is that I don't really care right now. Maybe it's the drugs that I'm under or maybe it just feels good that at least that's out there. If Bickman knows so does Owen. What can I do? I'll have a lot of work to do to regain Owen's trust and possibly my job but I know that I can do it.

"He didn't look all that surprised." Josh informs me looking as perplexed as I feel. Am I that obvious? "He says that he'll keep it quiet for now. Right now the people at the Cube think you've just been in some freak cliff diving accident. But from the way he sounded my guess is you two will have a lot to talk about." Joshua is a mind reader sometimes. I swear it.

"Where is he now?" I respond with more relief than I deserve.

Joshua doesn't answer and he looks troubled but I don't know by what. "He's back in New York. He says he'll be back here by the weekend if you're still here. Which is likely." And then he lets out a sigh. "Is he the guy you left Will for?"

Ah ha! That's what the troubled look was for. I don't answer him but my silence seems to be enough of a confirmation. I want to say that I was fool for leaving Will but I just can't bring myself to do that either. Despite the fact that Bickman ran away, I still feel justified in my choice. Will and I just aren't right for each other.

"They called him first you know." Joshua finally says. His tone tells me that he's wondering why that was. But it explains how Bick knew to come here. The truth is that Bickman was the last person I had called before my jump. I had left him a voicemail when, as expected, he didn't answer. All I wanted to do was apologize for the botched surgery even though it had nothing to do with me. But afterwards I had tried to get him to brush it off as nothing and it wasn't 'nothing'. Of course I can't tell Josh any of this because he would wonder why I didn't call anyone else. The truth, like everything else in this situation, is difficult. At the time I wasn't sorry for what I was about to do. I was excited. Ready. The freedom was right over the cliff and I wanted nothing more than to go to it. People who call or write notes to family and friends before they end their lives, usually do it out of remorse. I can't tell Josh this, not if I'm going to avoid hospitalization.

So I dodge and move forward, hopefully unopposed. "I guess they recognized his name."

"I guess so."

I'm relieved that he doesn't take up that particular subject anymore. But the curiosity in his expression is still there and I know that the next topic isn't going to be any better. I brace myself for the next battle.

"What did he do to you?" His eyes are searching mine a little bit more carefully now, looking to catch any lies. "No, man should carry the amount of guilt that he seemed to have on his shoulders."

I stare at him shocked. But I shouldn't be. Of course Bickman would think this was about him. Why wouldn't he? He doesn't know enough about me to form any other assumptions. But the knowledge of my…curse…should have been the first clue that this really didn't have anything to do with him. Our tiff was just another drop in the bucket full of problems that I was going through that night. Now that bucket just seems like a tea cup that's only a quarter full.

"We got into an argument. It wasn't huge." I say quietly. "My selfish act happened at a bad time."

"I'm glad you recognize how selfish you were." He responds and the anger is back. I don't say anything more because there isn't anything I can say to him to make this better. All I can do is act.

My eyes start to get heavy again and I know that I'm about to go under. The exhaustion is impossible to ignore

"Get some sleep." Josh whispers as he squeezes my hand. What would I have ever done without such an amazing sibling and friend? I'd crash and burn of course. My mind becomes too muddled after that thought and I return to nothingness.


	3. Conditions

**Hi again everyone! Here's another chapter. Thanks for the follows, favorites and reviews. Please review as I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thanks all! By the way how about that season finale? Jaw dropping wasn't it? **

"_Committing suicide is a crime, Dr. Black." That voice. Where have I heard that voice before? It's gentle but clearly male and so familiar. Yet, even though it's gentle there's still something sinister about it. "You escaped death but I promise you, it will come. You'll suffer first. I promise you'll suffer." Where is that voice coming from? I can't see a thing. Everything is shrouded in fog. Why? Where am I? The owner of the voice laughs in the most maniacal way and I want to run but I don't know to where because I can't see…._

* * *

When I finally emerge from the nightmare, and that's exactly what it was, I am covered in sweat and shaking. I feel a hand close on my wrist and I am startled. I turn my head in that direction. Sitting there in the faux leather chair beside my bed is Dr. Ian Bickman. I'm surprised. Joshua told me that he was coming today but I never imagined that he would get here so early. Was it early?

"What time is it?" I ask sleepily. I wince as the words come out. Bick flew all the way back to the west coast to keep me company and relieve Joshua so that he can get back to his family, and that's what I open with? I instantly feel the flush of embarrassment creep into my cheeks. "I mean…I wasn't expecting you till later on in the afternoon." I amend still feeling stupid.

His laugh sounds tired but he shows no sign of offense, just exhaustion and I might be mistaken but….worry. "It's almost 8 am." His fingers slowly make their way in between mine and although I'm confused, I allow it; because just having him holding my hand is enough to send soothing sensations through my tense body. "Is that what you were told? That I was coming in the afternoon?" His eyes brighten a bit with mischief and I'm relieved to see it. "I told them I'd be here Saturday. I got here just after midnight. You were snoring away peacefully, so I left you to i—"

I let go of his hand and playfully smack him in the arm. "I don't snore." I insist. I really don't. If I had ever snored Will would have told me. My chest tightens at the thought of Will. Even though I left him to pursue a relationship with Bick, it doesn't make it any less hard. Will and I had been in an intense relationship for a long time and dissolving that kind of bond would leave one in pain for a long time. At least for me that's what had happened. From what I had heard, Will was now seeing someone else. How quickly someone can forget.

Bickman grins and snatches up my hand again and my focus is redirected back to him. I can't help but smile at him. But somehow he's different from the man I had an argument with at the Cube weeks earlier. I can't put my finger on the change just yet, but I know that it's a positive one.

"I know. I'm just making sure that you're paying attention." His grin suddenly turns and he's serious again. It's a good look for him, but today I'm terrified of it. He's going to cut straight to the punch and our little reunion will be over because I'm going to have to fight.

"Josh told me that you want nothing to do with the arrangements that I've made." His eyes harden in a way that I'm drawn in and I can't look away.

I do my best to match his appearance but I know that I already appear weak. I have enough injuries to provide that look for me. When I was finally clear headed, Joshua told me the damage was to the tune of: A fractured sternum, bruised heart, ruptured spleen, skull fracture and a shattered radius that has already required 2 surgeries. I had also undergone five blood transfusions while unconscious. I had nearly died and that was something Joshua continued to remind me of.

Last night Joshua had gone home to New York. It had been a huge surprise when Joshua told me but, Bickman is supposed to stay around until it's safe for me to travel, which should be in about a week but if he's going to be as hard on me as Josh has been I will send him home. I understand that I have done a horrible thing there is no use continually reminding me of it. I just want to move forward. I need to hear about my past mistakes as much as I need their supervision.

"He wasn't lying if that's what you're hoping." He doesn't respond and he stares at me expectantly, so I know that I'm free to continue uninterrupted. "Bick, I just want to go home and start over." I clench my jaw and give him, what I hope is a pointed stare. "I want to start over with _everything." _

He squeezes my hand and nods. "You don't get a redo button in life." He says and my heart sinks. "But with us there is." He hesitates for a second, his thumb moving in small circles along the top of my hand. "Is that what you want? We didn't break from any fault of your own. I was the one who stopped it before we could even really begin...because I just couldn't handle all the feelings that were evolving." He reminds me and I hear the remorse that floods his tone.

"Yes, it's what I want." I respond quietly. "But you need to understand something. I didn't jump because of our break." I assure him. "I had been having some huge issues lately and I just…I just didn't know how to handle them all, so I just fell to pieces."

For a long time he just stares down at our hands, like he's searching for some kind of answer. The silence is so thick though that I feel as if I might choke.

"Bick?" I finally press when the silence becomes too suffocating.

He looks up again and his eyes are lit with determination. Oh no here we go again. "This is why you should do some time in the Seattle." He insists. He's careful not to mention the word hospital and he's smart for it because hearing that word would undoubtedly cause me to lose my grip because I thought we had just reached a consensus. It's still not enough to diminish the fight in me. No not by a long shot.

I shake my head. "No psychiatric hospitals. I need to do this on my own. I honestly feel fine. Please I need you to understand why this won't happen again."

"Enlighten me then."

For the first time since the incident, I go into full detail about my jump. I tell him about all the emotions that had suddenly passed over me; the regret, the pain and the fear. Most importantly I tell him about how I didn't want to die. How I still don't want to die. It's true. Something during that jump had reset my mind setting and while I'm still bipolar, I'm pretty sure suicide is off the table. I survived that impossible jump and that was a gift that I couldn't underestimate. For a moment my mind drifts to my nightmare. I feel like there is something to it, something I am missing. I get this strong sense that I am supposed to remember something and it's important to my survival.

Before I can dwell on it any further, my mind is suddenly drawn back to Bickman as he presses his lips to mine. "Okay," he whispers as he pulls away from me. "I have two conditions though." I don't speak and he stares at me as if debating how he should tell me.

"Out with it, Bick."

"Number one: You will tell Owen."

"No!" I snap at him. "Are you insane? He'll fi—" Suddenly he presses his index finger to the tip of my nose and it clearly has the effect he wanted because when I fall silent he grins.

"I'm not finished. Don't interrupt me." He doesn't move his index finger from my nose and I get the feeling he's not going to until he finishes, so I wait and the dominating neurosurgeon clearly approves of this. I clench my jaw but I still don't speak. But if he thinks that I'm going to tell Owen he's wrong. I refuse to lose my job to this. Bipolar disorder will not take the thing that I worked too damn hard for. I won't let it. I refuse.

"Good. As I was saying; you are going to tell Owen because there's a cold, calculating, little psychiatrist who would love to beat you to the punch and she's been trying to for weeks now. Luckily for you I've been able to intercept all her attempts. This condition is for your sake."

Josh had mentioned that Bick hadn't seemed surprised when he had learned of my secret. I narrowed my eyes at him and he drops his fingers cueing my turn to speak. "You've known all this time, haven't you? How?"

He smiles that cocky smile of his that, though I won't ever admit it, makes my toes curl. I keep my thoughts focused as I wait for his answer. Damn him and his gorgeousness. It's no wonder he ca—Well so much for keeping my thoughts focused.

"Catherine, dear have you lost your ability to focus?" Shit! He had noticed and he's enjoying it too! I must have looked all glassy eyed and foolish, kind of like Carlotta around any man who would look her way.

"Sorry, had a bit of a pain spike." I respond in an attempt to save face and take away his satisfaction. But it's the wrong answer because he suddenly takes on a lot of concern.

"Want me to call a nurse?"

"No, it was a passing thing. I can handle it. Please answer my question."

He visibly relaxes in the chair he's sitting in. "Well, I spent too much time with you not to suspect something. You've been sleeping with a neurosurgeon, Cat. What did you expect?"

"Do you really pay that much attention to women? I always thought you were only zeroed in to their asses…..and did you just call me Cat?"

He grins "Touché. Okay, okay…." For a moment he looks embarrassed and he's searching for words. "Maybe I've been more keyed into you than I have ever been with other woman." His hand shoots to the back of his neck and he rubs it awkwardly. It's rare that Bickman is flustered and I find it incredibly sweet, and honestly it's gratifying to know that I did that to him. "I just don't know what it is about you." He closes his eyes and he seems to be fighting with himself like he wants to say more but he knows that he shouldn't. Finally he opens his eyes and cocky Bickman is back. "And yes, I called you Cat. Catherine is too formal for me, I'm trying something out. Sue me."

I smile and shake my head. It's all so absurd but what can I do? I just have to take it all in stride. I move back to his first condition and look him dead in the eyes. He's right Farrah is just waiting to fry me. "Okay." I saw. "I'll tell Owen but then I'm going to be out of a job. Are you going to pay my bills?" I'm playing this off as a joke but I find this all far from funny.

"Owen respects you too much to fire you over this. He knows you can do the job. You've been doing it as a person fighting bipolar all along. And yes I said fighting instead of suffering because you aren't a victim you are a fighter. If you were a victim you wouldn't be a world renowned neurologist right now." He gets up and leans down and kisses me again. My mind fogs up and for a moment I forget. Maybe that's his goal and I'm okay with that. But all too soon he pulls away, but remains standing. "If Owen tries to fire you—which he won't, I'll be in your corner." He won't tell me his plans but I know that he has something planned and sooner or later I may find out what those plans are.

This is all too much sweetness to handle. This has to be a dream. Bickman is expressing a side of himself that I've never dreamed of seeing. Maybe this is the side of him that volunteers at homeless shelters. "Okay, fine what's condition number two?" I shut my eyes to ward off a building headache.

"You and I are getting a new apartment as soon as we get back to New York."

My eyes snap open and I stare at him. He says this so nonchalantly but I know this can't be so simple for him. Dr. Ian Bickman is not the type of guy to settle into an apartment. He sure as hell is not the type to settle in an apartment with a woman that he quite possibly is romantically interested in. This is a massive step. This could only be a joke. Sometime soon he's going to break out into a grin. But he never does. He stays silent, his eyes burn with sincerity. "Bick, when you make a joke you aren't supposed to look so damned serious."

"It's not a joke." He says after a beat. "You were right. It's time that I open myself to new things. It's a win-win situation here. You get a new place and I get a new place." I know his other reason is that he'll be able to keep an eye on me but he won't say it.

"I don't need a babysitter."

"No you don't, but that doesn't change the fact that this could be a good arrangement. Just consider it. There's a nice place overlooking the Hudson that I think you'll like. Or we can look into something else, but I don't think that going back to your old apartment is wise when you're trying to make a change..."

I inhale and exhale shakily. He has a very valid point and this could be good for us. While I don't want to admit it, at this point I'm so scared of myself that I just don't want to be alone. And Bick is going to need help transitioning from his life in hotel rooms to life in an apartment some apartments in New York are not that much different.

"Okay."

"Really?" The shock on his face is adorable.

"Yeah let's do this."


	4. Bliss

**_Hi all! Hope you don't mind but this chapter I took a little liberty with Bickman's back story. Let me know what you think! Also if I may make a suggestion: Read this while listening to Holocene by Bon Iver. :) Also for those of you who like to skip over the bold at the end, please read! I have a question and your input will be helpful. _**

_Ten days later…._

_Friday Harbor, WA_

The moment that Bick had mentioned taking me up here to the San Juan Islands I had resisted because of their proximity to Seattle. I thought that this had all been a set up. The hand of trust that he had extended me was actually gloved hiding the ugliness of deceit. I had been so angry at him for trying to fool me that I had kicked him out of my hospital room. He left unceremoniously, but the hurt in his eyes had spoken volumes and I knew that I had made a huge mistake in not trusting him, but I had let him leave because I had needed to cool off.

When he had arrived back it was with a print out of our flight tickets in hand. His eyes burned with his determination and his mouth set in a hard line. For a moment I couldn't breathe and then he laid it all in my lap. "We're going." He told me firmly. "There's no way you can stand a flight to New York right now and honestly I think you could use the break. Hospitals don't count." He had added the last part before I could make that argument. He knew me so well, because while we had our vast differences, our intense work ethic was something that we shared.

Once he had finished his little tirade about how I needed rest, and how I should trust him, I agreed to go with him to Washington. I had planned on relenting with the stubborn man the moment that he had left the room. Trusting him was the best I could do for him right now, because I had no other way to apologize to him for the guilt that I had laid on his shoulders.

Now almost a week later here I was on an island off the coast of Washington. Full on relaxation is something that I can rarely attain. However, sprawled out on a teak couch on a porch that faces the emerald seas of the Pacific Northwest, I have found it. We have been here for less than a day and I already feel completely healed despite all of my injuries. I still can't believe that I almost missed out on this. I took in some of the briny air and let it sink deep into my lungs before I exhaled. The smell should bring me back to that night, three weeks ago, but it doesn't. The memory does try to snake its way into my serenity but I don't let it. I'm becoming better at that. I'm not perfect but I am better.

"There you are."

Before I can look up to see Bick in the doorway, he's in front of the couch and I am quickly lifted into his arms, before he gently sits down with me. Somehow he manages not to jostle me enough to flare up my painful injuries, and for that I am incredibly grateful.

"How was grocery shopping?" I ask him, knowing that he probably had hated it. He had been gone for an hour more or less. There is no way I could know that for sure though, as I had been out here for most of the duration of his absence. Out here, an entire lifetime could have passed me by without out me knowing, or even caring.

The views out here are just too wonderful to experience from inside. Sure I can get a better view from the top floor bay windows. But there is no way that I would be able to authentically experience the gentle breezes, and the smell of spring blossoms mixed in with the salted sea air. I wouldn't be able to hear the stellar Jay's call or the beautiful calls of the various other song birds that inhabit the cedars, redwoods and douglas firs that grow in the surrounding area. There had been a doe and her fawn earlier too. But most breathtaking of all had been the pod of orca that had passed by. They were far out to see, but they had seemed so close. There had been a couple breaches but mostly they swam purposely north.

Bick doesn't respond to my question. I think he knows that I am in a state of pure bliss and so he carefully nuzzles my neck, with his arms are wrapped firmly around me like a shield but not firm enough to harm me. I don't know how he does it, but he does. I close my eyes and listen to his breathing his lips move idly along my skin. The colors suddenly take on much more vivid shades and I fall into a deeper peace.

"This place is amazing." I finally whisper after a few minutes of sitting this way.

"It always has been." He responds before planting a few gentle kisses along my jaw. I am sure that they are chaste in nature, because no one would be dumb enough to try anything to physical in this condition, but still those kisses send chills down my spine, the good kind. The kind of chills that lead to things that they shouldn't lead to.

"You'd better stop." There's no resolve in my voice though because I want him to keep at it.

His chuckle against my skin just makes things worse. I am so intoxicated by him and the bastard knows it. "Don't worry. I won't take things that far. I just want some of your attention. I can't really compete with these views. Oh, but he can.

And then something he had just said registers in my mind. "Wait…what do you mean: 'It always has been'?" It was the way he had said it, like he was reminiscing the past.

"A bit late to the party there, Dr. Black." Oh he's enjoying this and in all honesty so am I. '

"Yeah, that's what I said." He responds and he hesitates to go any further, but I know that he wants to. I also get the feeling that he needs to go further, so I press my cheek to his shoulder and press a kiss to the lower part of the side of his neck.

"Go on."

He strokes my hair and the action causes my heart to swell. Damn I have it bad. For a moment I wonder if I'm crazy to be experiencing all this raw emotion for a man that I had only known for a few months, and only recently had allowed into my inner circle of trust. But maybe that was the key: I had allowed him into my inner circle of trust. That is a place few people have access to, and most only had limited access. Bick was the first to be permitted admittance in such a short amount of time and he already knows most of my secrets. So, what does that all mean for us?

"I lived here for fifteen years." The sudden amount of emotion freezes me into shocked silence. He continues on without much more hesitation. "My mother was high school biology teacher and my father was a marine biologist. He mostly studied killer whales, and when he wasn't doing that he was guest lecturing at Universities or spending time with us. I used to spend every chance I could with him on the water because there really is no better place in the world."

By the increasing unsteadiness in his voice and the uncomfortable shifts in his posture, I can tell that something traumatic is on the horizon; and so I do my best to brace him for this part of the story. I turn around to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my forehead to his. He needs to know that I am here and that he is safe to tell his story.

His eyes drift shut and he looks as if he is trying to ward off a memory. I don't move, but I whisper my reassurances to him. I have never seen this man look so vulnerable. It is shocking, but my heart aches for him and all I want to do is take away his pain but I don't yet know the cause of it.

"Just after my fifteenth birthday, my parents were in Seattle for a conference. My father had a talk and my mother was accompanying him as she often did, if she could. At the end of the conference, on their way to the ferry terminal…their car was sliced in half by a big rig. The way his voice tremors shatters my aching heart to pieces and I kiss his forehead. I can tell he's fighting back tears and I want to tell him that it's okay, but I know that he won't accept that. He's already allowed in too much vulnerability, which of course I admire, but I know he isn't proud of it. "The driver had fallen asleep at the wheel."

I know the proper sentiment is to apologize, but I know that Bick won't accept that either. So we sit there in silence for a few minutes, just holding each other. The breeze picks up a bit and shrouds us in a comforting embrace but all that really matters is the hurting man who is holding me together as I am desperately trying to hold him.

"Those two loved each other in ways that, back then, I could never imagine loving someone." He opens his eyes then and stares purposely at me and I get what he's saying but I don't acknowledge it for two reasons. The first is that I could be mistaken and two, I don't think I am ready for this. Shit, who am I kidding? I'm terrified of this.

Something dawns on me then and it is at the perfect time because now I can dodge. "Is this your first time being back?" For a moment I wonder if this house that he grew up in. Did he sit out here as a little boy and watch the wildlife? Did he play in this yard? Did he run on the cherry wood floors that cover the entirety of the house? Is this where he received the news?

"Yeah it is. After my parents died I lived with my grandparents in Seattle until I moved to Los Angeles to attend UCLA." He admits and his tone is somewhat more crestfallen and I know exactly why. But he needs to give me time.

"It's changed a bit, it's been repainted and there's been some new floors put in, and the kitchen and bathrooms have been remolded, but this is actually the house I grew up in. My aunt is keeping it for me. For now she rents it out to tourists, but she swears that I'm going to come back and open up a practice here. She lives over in Anacortes, so don't worry she won't be dropping in." He laughs a little and presses a brief kiss to my temple. "I brought you here because there isn't a better place to heal."

_It's a good place for you, too, Ian. _I think to myself but I don't speak the words. He definitely needs to be here. Maybe he'll find some peace, because with his past habits of sleeping with different women every night and living out of a hotel, it's clear that he really isn't at peace. And as much as I want to be able to help him find that peace, I know that I can't do it alone.

We sit there in silence for a long time, my head resting comfortably on his shoulder, and his fingers slowly working small circles along my arms. But then out of nowhere my stomach loudly cries its demand to be filled. I blush with embarrassment as Bick laughs and then kisses me.

"You're right; Cat just isn't a fitting nickname for you. With a roar like that I should call you Lioness. Although, that nickname does come from more than just a roar." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and I smack his arm.

"Watch it or you'll never get to see that side of me again." I warn him trying to maintain a bit of seriousness but as he stands with me, slowly lowering my feet to the ground and presses a light kiss to the tip of my nose, I can't help but laugh. What could be better than this?

"Breakfast?"

"Yes, please."

**Okay, so I don't normally ask but I've got a bit of a dilemma here, And there's a tiny bit of a spoiler in this question so beware, should I continue this story on the island or should I bring them back to New York? I don't want to ruin the island for them...but part of me actually does lol. And just so you all are warned, I have quite a bit planned for the poor souls. Have a great day everyone. **


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